Through the Storm
by seeing-spots
Summary: Following their argument in the armory, will Aragorn and Legolas make their peace before the Battle of Helm's Deep? Slightly AU movieverse.
1. Not What I Meant

DISCLAIMER:  All characters and settings belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate.  Many thanks to Peter Jackson, WETA, and New Line Cinema for visual imagery and slight variations on Mr. Tolkien's story.

THROUGH THE STORM by Jessie Syring

            "Natha daga thaer!"

            The words were barely out of Legolas' mouth when Aragorn backhanded him.  The sound of the slap echoed loudly in the suddenly-too-quiet armory.  Legolas took an awkward step backward and stared at the dark-haired man in surprise and pain, reaching up to touch the blood now trickling from his split lip.

            Aragorn froze, horrified by what he had just done and the hurt in the Elf's blue eyes.  "Legolas---" he began and reached toward him.

            Legolas retreated another step and looked at the blood on his fingers.  Suddenly he turned and fled up the stairs.  Aragorn made to follow but Gimli stopped him.  The Dwarf's grip on his arm was firm and commanding.

            "Let him go, lad.  Leave him be."

            Aragorn looked at him and became aware of the other people in the armory.  All activity had stopped as the scene had unfolded and the men of Rohan now looked at him.

            Aragorn spun and left the armory as well, seeking his own peace.  In the crowded courtyard of Helm's Deep, he finally stopped, drawing in a deep breath of the early evening air.  It stank of unwashed bodies, cooking food, and something else.  Fear, he realized.

            His anger renewed, he silently damned Legolas for voicing his fears.  He doubted many Rohirrim spoke Sindarin but much could be interpreted from a person's expression and tones.  The tension and fears the men already had at this impossible situation would have increased at the strange language---was the situation so desperate that those who would lead them discussed it in secret?

            He became aware of the people around him.  Women herded their families and meager belongings together to move to the caves.  Men pushed past him, coming and going from the armory with ill-fitting armor and rusted weapons.  Over the din, he could hear the squeal of iron on stone as old weapons were given a keen edge on grinding wheels.

            The noise grated harshly on his ears and he started walking, distancing himself as much as possible from the preparations for war.  He knew he should seek Theoden, Rohan's noble king, and check last minute preparations and discuss strategies.  But for now he preferred the open space and his own company.

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            People passing Gimli gave him as wide a berth as possible in the crowded keep.  Head set in grim determination and grumbling under his breath, he stalked through the citadel in search of Legolas.  The sun had gone below the mountains when he finally stopped, leaning against the wall in frustration and exhaustion.

            "Ah, Elf, where did you go?" he asked.

            The wind held no answer.  The Dwarf made his way through the crowd toward keep proper.  The men-at-arms were helping the raw recruits adjust armor and showing them how to use the battered swords they awkwardly wielded.  Gimli shook his head slightly.  If the Uruk-Hai breached the walls, three hundred Dwarves would not be able to hold them back.  A ragtag army of experienced soldiers, ancient farmers, and children had no chance at all.

            A slight movement on the cliff face behind the keep caught his eye and he backed up for a better view, tilting his head as far back as he could.   Very light blond hair, moving in the wind, stood in sharp contrast to the blackness of the surrounding rock some fifteen or twenty feet above the warming fires blazing in braziers on the highest tower of the fortress.

            Gimli shook his head.  "Sure.  I search every square inch of this hole and you're sitting up there like some crazy bird."

            He started up the steep stone stairs that led into the circular tower, intent on making his way as close to Legolas as he could get without leaving the ground.  He saw Aragorn seated on the stairs halfway between the keep and the courtyard.  The Man seemed unaware of the bustling activity around him as he stared off into the distance.  Gimli started up the stairs toward him.

            Aragorn turned his head, looking at a cluster of men some fifteen feet away.  One, a gangly youth with brownish hair, met his gaze.  Gimli missed what was said, but the boy walked to Gondor's future king and handed him his sword.  Aragorn rose and swung the blade through a practiced figure-eight pattern, checking its weight and balance.  Then he held it before him.  Even at a distance, Gimli could see its surface was pitted and rusted.

            "This is a good blade," Aragorn said, handing the weapon back.  Then he placed a hand on the youth's shoulder.  "There is always hope."

            The boy smiled cautiously and rejoined the other men.

            Aragorn looked around then and saw Gimli coming toward him with a grim expression.  "Gimli, have you seen Legolas?" he asked.  "I need to find him."

            "So you can hit him again?"

            Aragorn flinched at those words.  "I deserved that," he said, taking a seat once more.  "I won't hit him again.  I shouldn't have done it the first time," he added, his voice almost a whisper.

            Gimli sat heavily on the stairs near him.  "I didn't understand a word of what the Elf said, but it sounded to me as though he was only expressing the concerns of every man here."

            "The people here are frightened enough," Aragorn said crossly.  "He's an experienced warrior, not a child.  He should have known better than to cause alarm."

            "Aye, I'll grant you that.  But he is also faced with losing his best friend for the second time in as many days.  I don't think that's something he's had a lot of experience with."  Aragorn looked at Gimli in surprise.  "He's up there."  Gimli jerked a thumb toward the keep and the cliff.  "Go talk to him."

            "There's so much to do---"

            "It won't take but a few minutes.  Go."  Gimli rose.  "I need to put a keen edge on my axe."

            The stout Dwarf walked away without a backward glance.  Aragorn rose and stretched, still feeling the aches and bruises from his tumble off the cliff.  Scanning the heights of the keep, he soon located Legolas as well.  He entered Helm's Deep and made his way to the upper levels, emerging atop the parapets.

            But Legolas was gone.

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To be continued


	2. The Gathering Storm

A/N:  Wow!  I was so happy with all my reviews to Chapter One!  Thank you, everyone!  I hope to post another chapter before the end of the week but I can't promise.  Here's the second chapter in the mean time.

See Chapter One for disclaimer.

Chapter Two:  The Gathering Storm

            Gimli watched Aragorn go with a shake of his head.  He knew he should be angry with the Man---his actions had been completely uncalled for.  But at the same time he understood the pressure the ranger had been under, especially since Gandalf's fall in the Mines of Moria.  And Legolas...well, maybe he didn't quite understand how the minds of Elves worked, but Gimli knew the archer was quite young by his peoples' immeasurable lifespans.  If the young men of Rohan felt fear and anxiety at the coming battle, a young Elf had as much right.

            "Master Gimli?" called a familiar voice.

            Gimli turned to see a fair woman emerge from the hall hand make her way toward him.  He easily recognized Eowyn, niece of Rohan's king, as she maneuvered her way around awkwardly hampered men to reach him.  She had bound her long hair to keep it back from her face and, he noticed, she wore a broad sword belted on her hip.

            "Lady Eowyn," he chastised gently, "all women were sent to the caverns.  Surely your uncle will not approve of you being out here."

            "Even my uncle understands that men need to eat, Master Gimli.  We have food in the main hall so you can eat before the battle."  She looked around.  "Have you seen Lord Aragorn?"

            "He's about.  Checking the defenses, no doubt.  I'll send him to the hall when I see him."

            "I heard what happened in the armory," Eowyn began.  "Is---"

            "Ah, don't worry yourself about that," Gimli said with more confidence than he felt.  "'Twas just a misunderstanding.  When they have a chance to settle their nerves, they'll both see that."

            As he talked, the Dwarf caught a glimpse of Legolas then, standing at the entrance to the hall.  Legolas stood for a long moment, watching the activity around him.  He briefly met Gimli's gaze, then strode away.

            "Excuse me, lass.  I've some business to take care of."

            Gimli bowed slightly and made his way around the press of bodies going in and out of the hall but realized he had lost sight of Legolas.  Looking around, he saw a short, bearded Man with gray-streaked hair that he recognized as an advisor to the king.  The Man was leaning against a wall and hungrily spooning the contents of a bowl into his mouth.  Gimli made his way to him.

            "Lord---" Gimli paused, the name escaping him.

            "Gamling, Master Dwarf," replied the man, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.  He nodded to his left.  "The kitchens are that way.  They'd be happy to serve you some stew."

            The aroma of the stew in the bowl turned Gimli's stomach.  "It's not food I'm after.  I'm looking for my companion, Legolas.  He was here a few moments ago."

            Gamling nodded, shoveling another spoonful of stew into his mouth.  "He headed toward the armory."

            With a hasty thanks, Gimli excused himself.  He went through the archway and down the steep stairs leading to the now-deserted armory.  The weapon racks were empty except for a few items too battered to be useful even at this desperate time.  Several shields had been cast aside carelessly, abandoned for ones that didn't need large amounts of repair.  Bits and pieces of armor were scattered about the room, all that remained of the piecemeal armor that had hastily been assembled for the unprepared Rohirrim citizenry.

            Legolas moved among the armor, seeming to sort through it.  He picked up a chain mail shirt and discarded it, then found a long piece of hard leather with straps holding it together and held it up.  He cocked his head to the side, studying it and comparing its length and shape to his arm.

            "That is a greave and goes about your leg," Gimli offered from the foot of the stairs.  Legolas sighed and tossed aside the armor but didn't look around as he continued his search.  "I thought the Elves of Mirkwood didn't wear armor."

            "We don't.  But shooting from the shelter of a tree is different than an exposed position as is here."  Legolas turned to look at Gimli, his expression bleak.  "I don't even know what I am looking for."

            "Let me help."  Gimli came forward, eyeing the Elf thoughtfully.  "I don't think you'll be wanting something as heavy as chain mail.  Not the way you fight."  He began sorting through some of the armor, discarding some pieces and setting others aside.  "Even if they breach the wall, I imagine you'll use your bow as long as possible."

            "I fear most of the armor would slow me down too much to use my knives as well."

            Gimli grunted.  "Here.  Try this on."

            He held up what looked like a thick leather vest with straps and buckles on each side beneath the arm holes.  Legolas undid the buckles and slipped it over his head, then awkwardly tightened the straps and buckles.  "How can anyone move in this, let alone fight?" he asked, twisting and turning.

            "You get used to it.  And you don't go jumping around like a squirrel when you're wearing it."  Legolas smiled slightly.  Gimli said, "Let me see."  Legolas meekly submitted to Gimli pulling the armor at various angles and trying to move it around.  "Too loose.  A sword would go right through there."  Gimli poked a finger through a space below Legolas' arm.

            "Maybe something just for the arms and shoulders?" Legolas asked.  "Something that won't hinder my movement?"

            Gimli made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and began searching again.  Soon he came up with two sections of overlapping pieces of leather riveted together, joined by leather straps and connected to a dizzying assortment of straps and buckles.  The Dwarf patiently sorted out pieces, coming away with the large assembly and fewer straps.

            "This may just do the trick for you.  Kneel down and we'll see how it fits."

            Legolas removed his quiver and knives, set them aside, and dropped to one knee before Gimli.  Gimli maneuvered the leather straps over his head and settled the leather across his shoulders and down his forearms.  Legolas reached up and pulled his long hair free from the contraption, then studied it as Gimli buckled the straps and made adjustments.  The leather was fairly thick and had been stained a dark reddish-brown.  Delicate geometric designs had been etched along the edges and dusted with gilt, although most of the color was now gone.  Two straps bound each half to his upper arms and another went around his chest.  It weighed little more than his quiver and a full flight of arrows combined.

            "There we go," Gimli said.  "See if that will work."

            Legolas rose and strapped his equipment back in place.  With one swift move, he pulled the bow to his hand and strung an arrow.  A slight frown creased his forehead and he returned the arrow to its place.  He adjusted the straps of the quiver as they crossed his chest so the quiver hung at an angle over his right shoulder instead of nearly straight up and down.  He repeated his earlier maneuver and drew the bow fully, then nodded.  In another rapid move, he drew his twin knives and went through a series of attacks and dodges before sheathing them and turning to Gimli with a smile on his face.

            Gimli nodded.  "Well, it'll do until I can convince you a suit of armor would work even better if you're going to war," he said.

            Legolas lost his smile.  He lowered his gaze and started past Gimli, intending to leave the armory.  Gimli grabbed his arm and stopped him, although Legolas didn't look up.

            "Legolas.  Talk to me."

            Legolas raised his head, gazing up the stairs.  "I don't belong here, Gimli.  I am among strangers."

            "Not strangers, lad.  New friends."

            "Who will be dead by morning."

            "Maybe."  Gimli sat on the stairs and dug his pipe out of a pouch.  "We don't know that for sure.  But that's not what's really bothering you, is it?"

            Legolas didn't answer right away.  Gimli lit his pipe and puffed slowly at it, watching the Elf.  Legolas finally turned to him.  "I have lived more centuries than most Men can count.  Yet, I have seen more death in these past few months than I ever care to see again!" he exclaimed.  "And I will see more die this night."

            "Good friends."

            Legolas looked away again.  "Aye."

            "Legolas, do you think you're the only one who feels this way?"  Gimli gestured with his pipe, taking in the whole keep.  "Everyone here, from the oldest to the smallest child, knows what will more than likely happen tonight.  Even Aragorn---"

            "Aragorn is a fool."

            Gimli frowned.  "Because he hides his fear?"

            "Because he thinks we can win."

            A heavy sigh caused Legolas to whirl around.  Aragorn emerged from behind a weapon case a few feet away, wearing chain mail under his ranger garb.  The Man's expression was one of deep sorrow.  Legolas stared at him and then glared at Gimli, his expression one of betrayal and humiliation.

            "You knew he was there, listening!" he shouted at the Dwarf.

            "He didn't," Aragorn said.  "Legolas, we need to talk."

            "I have said all I have to say to you.  And you didn't listen.  I have nothing more to say to you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

            Legolas spun on heel and strode up the stairs.  Aragorn sighed and looked at Gimli.  "He wouldn't let me talk to him," he said.  "I hurt him, Gimli.  I hurt his spirit."

            "It could have gone better," Gimli agreed.  "But he'll come around, Aragorn.  He's still your friend.  What happened won't change that."

            "I wish I could believe you."

            Suddenly the sound of a horn echoed through the armory.  Gimli rose, hand going to his axe, and grumbled, "Are they asleep up there?  Letting the orcs get so close?"

            "That is no orc horn," said Aragorn, rushing up the stairs.

            As he and Gimli arrived on the steps above the narrow courtyard of Helm's Deep, an army marched through the doors.  Dark cloaks hid their features from sight and protected them from the chill wind but they moved with inhuman grace.  Each new arrival carried a long bow of exquisite craftsmanship.  A banner in colors of green and gold flew from a staff carried near the head of the column.  At the head of the army marched a tall, handsome Elf whose gold-washed armor shone in the flickering firelight.

            Theoden, Rohan's king, rushed down the steps past Aragorn and Gimli.  "How is this possible?" he asked in disbelief as the Elf lord bowed to him, human-fashion.

            "I bring greetings from Lord Elrond of Rivendell," said Haldir, marchwarden of Lothlorien.  "An alliance once existed between Elves and Men."  He raised his eyes to Aragorn and smiled slightly.  "We come to honor that alliance."

            "Mae govannen, Haldir," greeted Aragorn, rushing forward to embrace him in greeting.  "You are most welcome."

            Gimli saw Legolas out of the corner of his eye.  The archer moved down the stairs and greeted Haldir in a similar fashion before moving away again.  A slight smile crossed the Dwarf's bearded features.  Well, maybe things weren't so grim now.

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tbc


	3. The Storm Breaks

DISCLAIMER:  Please see Chapter One for the disclaimer.  I wish I owned the characters sigh

Chapter Three:  The Storm Breaks

            Aragorn quickly pulled Haldir and his lieutenants into the keep and into conference with Theoden and his chief advisors.  Gimli hurried after.  Plans for the defense of Helm's Deep were drawn up, discarded, and redrawn over and over until all were satisfied.

            The Elves, two hundred experienced warriors would take position on the outer wall and the first courtyard as the first line of defense.  The Uruk-Hai would find it no easy task to approach the wall in the face of the Elven archers.  Even if they broke through, the Elves were equally skilled with the slightly curved swords they carried.

            Defense of the keep itself then fell to the humans.  Those who showed any skill with bows were stationed on the outer ring of the keep and in the watch towers.  As many skilled fighters as could be spared took place over the gates where they could defend the causeway.  Every man who could fit was given space on the walls and above the gate.  Those left over took up position behind the gates:  if the Uruk-Hai tried to break down the gates, they would reinforce it or slay any of the foul creatures breaking through.

            The final plans laid, the meeting was about to break up when someone knocked on the door of the chamber.  A tall Elf entered, bowing slightly.  "My lords, we have spotted the Uruks.  They will be upon us within the hour," he said as calmly as he might announce dinner was ready.

            "Thank you, Tauril," said Haldir.  The Elf bowed and left.

            Theoden straightened, his handsome face creased with tension.  "That's it, then.  To your posts.  And may dawn find us all in good health."

            They left the chambers and quickly broke into groups, issuing orders to take positions and making final checks of weapons and armor.  Gimli jogged after Aragorn and Haldir; the action would be on the outer walls and he planned to be right in the thick of it.  Standing on tip-toes, he could just see over the crenellations in the outer wall.  Fires, just pinpricks of light at this distance, burned in the distance.  In a flash of lightning, he could see movement but could not make out any details.

            The Elves stood as motionless as the trees of their forests with the patience only long life could teach.  Aragorn moved among them, speaking the occasional word of Elvish that Gimli couldn't understand.  He looked around, hoping to see Legolas somewhere among the warriors, but could see nothing but golden armor and cloaks.  Turning, he tried to peer over the wall again.

            "You could at least have picked a better place to stand," he grumbled to Haldir.

            The marchwarden smiled slightly but didn't respond.  Aragorn moved up beside them then, hair blowing in the wind.  He peered out across the plains, trying to discern enemy movements in a bright flash of lightning.

            "By the luck you live by, lad," Gimli said, "let's hope it lasts the night."

            Haldir placed a hand on Aragorn's shoulder.  "Your friends are with you, Aragorn."

            Aragorn looked at him in gratitude, then smiled as Gimli added, "Let's hope _they_ last the night."

            Someone shouted Aragorn's name and he moved to them.  Gimli glowered at the stone wall in front of him as a heavy drop of water splattered off his helmet.  Another soon followed, then another.  In moments rain was pouring from the sky and making a strange pinging sound as it bounced off the armor.

            Over the sound of the rain came another sound, a deep thudding sound.  It built in a steady crescendo to the sound of thousands of marching feet.  Less-frequent lightning flashes accompanied the rain but revealed the massive army marching on the keep with the steady pace of a drum beat.  Indistinct shouts and battle cries could be heard from the army now.  The black armor reflected no light from torch or lightning but glinted off spears and hooked scimitars.

            The wind carried Aragorn's voice to the Elves on the battlements as he spoke to them.  The strength of his voice encouraged even the humans close enough to hear it although they could not understand the strange language.  Soon the march of the army drowned out his voice and he moved once more to the battlements.

            The Uruk-Hai suddenly halted, perhaps in response to some command the defenders couldn't hear.  They formed ragged lines stretching back into the darkness, grunting and blowing steam into the cold wet air.  The front rows then began pounding the butts of their spears rythmically on the ground and chanting.  The action was soon taken up by those behind.

            Aragorn drew his sword, attention on those around him as well as the horde.  The experienced warriors knew the tactic well---such chanting served to make the attackers bolder while breaking the morale of the defenders.  The entire valley echoed with the thrumming noise that bounced off the mountain and the thick walls of the keep.

            "Tangado a chadad!"

            Upon Aragorn's command, the Elves moved seemingly as one creature, raising their bows and putting arrow to string.  Each Elf drew the string back until the feathers brushed lightly against the cheek and waited.

            "Faeg i-varv din na lanc a nu ranc."

            Those quiet words drew Gimli's gaze around.  He knew the voice, if not their meaning.  Legolas stood a few feet to his right, also ready to release an arrow.  He didn't look at Gimli, nor at Aragorn.

            Suddenly a lone arrow flew out from the keep, striking an Uruk.

            "Dartho!" commanded Aragorn.

            The Elves held steady as the black-skinned orcs ceased their actions.  One fell creature fell to the ground.  The attitude of the orc army began to change.  Enraged roars reached the ears of the defenders and the lines began to shift and move.  Suddenly the entire mass of Uruk-Hai began to surge forward.

            "Hado i philinn!"

            Elven arrows flew straight into the front ranks of the Uruk-Hai, dropping many instantly.  A second volley followed, this released by the Men in the keep.  Then Aragorn signalled the Elves in the courtyard and more arrows flew, arching high into the air to fall onto the attackers beyond the wall.

            Gimli shifted his weight from foot to foot and clutched his axe tightly., impatient for the fight to begin.  Too many orcs waited on the plains below to hope the archers would stop them all.  Aragorn was constantly on the move, watching the orcs and trying to anticipate their actions.  Suddenly Aragorn was at the wall, staring out.

            "Pendraith!" he shouted.

            Too soon, Uruk-Hai were topping the walls where they had managed to raise ladders.  Legolas planted an arrow in the face of one who rose directly in front of him and had a second arrow ready before the next orc appeared.  Elves were exchanging their bows for swords as more and more of the misshapen creatures climbed onto the walls.

            A hulking, half-naked Uruk---his skin painted white and stained with blood---viciously cut down an Elf with his scimitar.  The dying Elf staggered back into Gimli, knocking him off his feet, and the savage orc spun to deliver a blow to the Dwarf.  With a cry, Gimli brought his axe up in a two-handed chop.  The Uruk squealed in pain as the axe sank into his groin.  Gimli jumped to his feet and delivered a killing blow to the orc's unprotected back.

            Aragorn fought hard, trying to help the fighters as well as monitor the battle as a whole.  A large number of Uruk-Hai were marching up the causeway, their shields held over their heads and around them in a protective wall.  Men on the gatehouse were attacking the shield wall with thrown stones and spears, but they still marched on.

            "Na fennas!" he shouted, gesturing with his sword.  "Na fennas!"

            Immediately Elves along the wall, firing as soon as they saw their targets.  Uruk-Hai fell from the causeway as arrows decimated their ranks.

            Gimli scrambled onto the top of the wall between two siege ladders.  Orcs were scrambling up as fast as they could, hampered by the narrowness of the ladder.  Crying out his count with each blow, Gimli hacked into each orc as it scrambled up the ladder toward him, dropping one with each stroke.

            Legolas had exchanged his bow for his two knives, better suited for the close fighting as more and more orcs joined the battle and more Elves fell to their blades.  He darted in, parrying an attack with one blade while the other stabbed in to find a weak spot in the armor or slash a throat.

            He heard Aragorn screaming over the noise of the battle and paused, looking around.  Aragorn stood at the wall, staring at the army below with a look of horror and shouting for someone to "kill him."  Grabbing the bow from his back, Legolas ran to the wall and sought his target.

            A big Uruk-Hai, naked but for a helmet and a loincloth, was running toward the wall with a brightly burning torch in his hand.  Others had opened a path for him and chanted something as he ran.  Glancing down, Legolas saw he was running for the storm drain where a small stream fed out of the keep's walls.

            Legolas drew an arrow quickly and fired.  Even as he nocked a second, he saw the Uruk-Hai stagger but not fall, the arrow protruding from his chest.  From the corner of his eye, he saw Haldir also aiming at the orc.  Legolas' second arrow hit home at the same time as the Lothlorien's first but the enemy didn't fall.  Instead, he dove head-first into the culvert.

            A massive explosion rocked the fortress.

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tbc


	4. Friendship Forged In Fire

A/N:  I am still totally amazed by the response I've had to this story!  Thank you everyone!  I'm rewarding you all with yet another chapter.  But the story is drawing near the end.

DISCLAIMER:  See Chapter One.

Chapter Four:  Friendship Forged In Fire

            Gimli picked himself up, shaking his head carefully to try and clear the hollow ringing in his ears.  Everything seemed strangely quiet and a putrid mixture of dust and smoke hung heavily in the air.

            As the smoke parted, the sight that greeted his eyes caused him to gasp.  Only a few feet from where he had lain, a section of the wall some hundred paces in length was missing.  Elves---dead, dying, and merely stunned---lay amidst the rubble on the wall.  More bodies littered the ground below.

            Aragorn struggled to sit up, aware he was wet and every bone in his body ached.  He was lying in the courtyard where the wall had once dammed the creek.  Several bodies and parts of them lay near him.  He looked around and saw a gaping black hole where once there had been wall.  And Uruk-Hai warriors were charging through the gap.

            "Aragorn!"

            The shout seemed to come from far away and he looked around just in time to watch Gimli jump from the top of the wall onto the leading ranks of orcs coming through the gap.  Aragorn climbed shakily to his feet and saw the Elves in the courtyard, bows drawn and ready.  An orc knocked Gimli to the ground and raised his scimitar.

            "Hado i philinn!" commanded Aragorn.

            Dozens of arrows flew past him to find targets, piling Uruk-Hai deep in the gap.  More pushed past them, but by then Aragorn had regained his equillibrium and found his sword again.  His next command sent the Elves of Lothlorien charging into combat with him at the fore.

            Gimli sputtered and spat water as someone pulled him out of the water and set him on his feet.  He looked up into the concerned face of Legolas.  Blood trickled down the Elf's face from a laceration near his hairline and he held his left arm protectively over his ribs.  Then Legolas was gone again, moving to attack an Uruk-Hai trying to come up behind him.

            Aragorn fought hard but was aware of the Elves dying around him.  Less than a hundred Elves had survived the destruction of the wall and now it seemed as though the entire army of orcs was trying to come through the gap.  The Elves would sell their lives for a high price but they could not stop the black tide now.

            "Aragorn!"  This call did come from afar and he looked toward the central tower, quickly locating Theoden.  The king shouted, "Get your people out of there!"

            Aragorn nodded and turned.  "Nan barad!" he shouted, gesturing toward the main keep.  "Nan barad!"  He searched the walls and located Haldir, a rapidly moving figure in red and gold.  "Nan barad, Haldir!"

            The Elf turned and nodded, pushing Elves toward the stairs leading to the main keep's outer defenses.  He spun to meet an Uruk-Hai, raising his own sword to attack, but the enemy slashed its black weapon across his ribs before falling to the Elf's sword.  Haldir staggered back, staring at his own blood as it spread across the arm he pressed to the wound.  He failed to see a white-painted orc behind him with its scimitar raised high.

            "Haldir!"

            Legolas' anguished cry brought Aragorn spinning around in time to see the marchwarden fall.  Legolas charged up the stairs, shoving past retreating allies and attacking any orcs he encountered.  Aragorn swore and followed.  By the time he reached them, Legolas had his held Haldir's body.  Rain mixed with tears on his bruised face.

            "Legolas, we have to go," he said as gently as he could.

            Legolas raised his head and looked at him, then lowered Haldir's body.  Three orcs charged up the stairs toward them but were quickly cut down.  Aragorn looked around desperately---besides themselves, the only living creatures on the walls were orcs and more filled the courtyard.  He was tiring fast and could see the awkward way Legolas moved.  Orcs charged up the stairs toward them.

            Aragorn looked at Legolas and saw the anger and determination in his eyes.  The ranger nodded at the Elf prince and raised his sword in salute.  Legolas nodded.  And they both leaped off the wall into a mass of orcs.

            The tactic caught the Uruk-Hai off-guard.  Man and Elf fought back-to-back as they made their way through the Uruk-Hai between them and the keep.  Gimli and a handful men were holding the top of the stairs leading to the central wall.  With the arrival of Aragorn and Legolas, they retreated to the central wall.

            With the momentary respite from battle, Aragorn leaned over and rested his hands on his knees as he drew breath into his heaving lungs.  Nearby, Legolas also seemed to be short of breath and continued to hold his arm against his ribs.  Aragorn straightened and went to his side.

            "Are you wounded?" he asked, concerned.

            Legolas shook his head.  "Broken ribs," he said.  "I landed badly on part of the wall."

            Aragorn moved Legolas' arm aside.  His shirt was torn and bruises covered the exposed flesh but there was no blood.  "You'll need to have those bound," he said.  "I fear this fight is far from over."

            Shouting and a great deal of activity could be heard from the direction of the gatehouse.  Theoden's strong voice rang out, ordering troops to draw their swords and head for the gate.  Aragorn took a deep breath and turned to leave, but Legolas touched his arm.

            "Aragorn, I ask for your forgiveness," he said in a rush of Elvish.  "I was wrong to despair.  I realized when Haldir showed up with the Lothlorien archers that this war belongs to all of us.  If Rohan falls, we all fall."

            Aragorn reached out and firmly clasped his shoulder, his expression a mixture of gratitude and sorrow.  "U-moe edaved, Legolas.  In fact, I should beg your forgiveness.  I shouldn't have struck you."

            Legolas smiled slightly.  "Perhaps I wouldn't have listened otherwise."

            "If you two have finished saying whatever you're saying," Gimli interrupted, "we're needed at the main gate."

            "See to your injuries," Aragorn told his old friend.  "Let's go, Gimli."

            Aragorn and Gimli ran to the nearest stairs that led to the innermost courtyard and made their way through the press of bodies to the gate.  The Uruk-Hai had already broken part-way through with a battering ram and several men, Theoden King included, were battling to keep the orcs out.

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to be continued


	5. Fighting for the Dawn

DISCLAIMER:  still not mine.  See Chapter One for full disclaimer.

A/N:  Only one more chapter to go after this!

Chapter Five:  Fighting For The Dawn

            As Aragorn and Gimli charged toward the gate, they could hear sounds of fighting.  Aragorn pushed through the soldiers to the gate and quickly assessed the situation.  A few feet from splintered wooden gates, Theoden leaned heavily against the wall, his face twisted in pain and Gamling supporting him.  Several dead and wounded Rohirrim had been dragged to one side while others struggled to keep the Uruk-Hai from coming through the break.  Still more were bringing wood and brace poles.

            "Hold them," commanded Theoden.

            Aragorn sprang to the hole in the gate and hacked at the black arm of an orc trying to come through.  "How long do you need?" he called back to the king.

            Theoden pushed himself upright again, favoring his right arm.  "As long as you can give me."

            Aragorn nodded and shouted, "Gimli!"

            The two of them raced off, chased by shouts for more timbers.

**********************************************

            The fighting atop the walls and gate house was fierce as more and more orcs topped the stairs.  Huge ballista bolts with ropes attached allowed the attackers to haul massive siege ladders, covered with blood-thirsty orcs, into place.  Legolas had joined the fight with the white knives---his injuries could wait.

            He could see the fight on the causeway below intensifying as more orcs raced to join the fight at the gate.  He could do little to help there---most of his arrows, even those scavenged from his dead brethren, were gone.  Plus the orc shield wall defeated most of the missile fire from above.

            He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and spun, ducking beneath a scimitar slashing toward his head as he drove one of his knives upward into the face of an attacking orc.  As he turned to meet another attack, he heard a familiar sound from below.  It was Gimli's battlecry.  He killed the second orc and paused to risk a glance toward the causeway.

            Aragorn and Gimli stood back-to-back in front of the gates, effectively blocking the causeway.  They stabbed and hacked at anything coming within their field of vision, knowing it could only be foe.  Even non-fatal blows often knocked an orc off the causeway, falling hundreds of feet to sure death.  But Legolas could see the fight could not be won---there were simply too many.  And Theoden's men surely were close to enforcing the gate.

            A ballista bolt sailed over the wall, hooking securely on the crenellations to his left.  Legolas swung toward it and frowned, comparing its position with the causeway.  The rope on the bolt went tight as orcs below began pulling on it to heave one of the giant  ladders into place.  Legolas pulled bow and arrow from the quiver and rapidly walked to the wall, leaning over and sighting along the arrow as he drew back the string.  Once sure of his target, he released the arrow.

            The arrow sliced through the middle of the thick rope, easily parting it.  As the ladder toppled back to earth, crushing thousands of orcs beneath it, Legolas grapped the rope before it could slip free and quickly pulled it up.  He wrapped one end around a crenellation and knotted it tightly, then stood on the wall.

            "Aragorn!" he shouted.

            Aragorn looked up, his expression desperate, and Legolas dropped the rope.  He then scrambled off the wall before an orc crossbow found him and braced himself against the wall, part of the rope wrapped around himself for leverage.  Long moments passed before he was yanked forward by a heavy weight pulling hard on the rope.  His ribs screamed in protest at this new abuse and, for a moment, the Elf's vision went black around the edges.  Then he gritted his teeth and began hauling up on the rope.

            Several men joined him while others held back the wave of orcs swarming up other ladders.  Another ballista bolt struck a man to his left but he paid no heed to it.  Small crossbow bolts flew almost straight up beyond the edge of the wall, aimed at Aragorn and Gimli as they clung to the rope.  Finally Legolas was able to reach over the wall and help his friends up---first Gimli and then Aragorn.

            The three of them lay there for a moment, gasping for breath.  Aragorn clapped a grateful hand on Legolas' arm, too winded to speak.  Then the order came to retreat.  They were on their feet in an instant and followed the few men still alive to retreat across the bridges to the main keep.

*********************************

            The boom of the battering ram striking the main doors boomed loudly through the keep.  Theoden stood in the center of the main hall as all around him men scrambled to block the doors with any heavy furniture they could find.  Many men stared at him, looking for his support and strength.

            "The fortress is taken," Theoden declared.  "It is over."

            Aragorn and Gamling hurried past, carrying a table.  "You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it," he protested.  "They still defend it.  They have _died_ defending it!"

            A new sound reached his ears, distant but easily recognized.  He paused as a horrible realization struck him and he lowered his voice.

            "Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?"  Theoden didn't answer.  "Is there no other way?" he demanded.

            Gamling looked at him.  "There is one passage.  It leads into the mountains.  But they will not get far.  The Uruk-Hai are too many."

            "Send word for the women and children to make for the mountain pass.  And barricade the entrance!" Aragorn added as Gamling hurried off.

            "So much death," Theoden said.  "What can men do against so much reckless hate?"

            Aragorn paused, then met his gaze.  "Ride out with me.  Ride out and meet them."

            "For death and glory."

            "For Rohan.  For your people."

            Legolas stepped forward from where Gimli had been bandaging his ribs.  To his eye, the ranger Aragorn was gone.  Before him now stood the man who would be Gondor's king.  "The dawn is coming," he said quietly.  "The sun rises as we speak."

            Aragorn looked at him, then raised his gaze to a window.  Faint light, tinged red with the coming dawn, shone through.  Theoden also looked and saw it.

            "Yes.  Yes!"  Theoden's voice rang with renewed strength.  "The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep one last time!"

            "Yes!" Gimli shouted enthusiastically.

            He ran to a side hall and up a winding set of steps to the huge horn permanently mounted in the keep.  Men scrambled for horses and weapons as Theoden pulled on his helm and took the reins of his white stallion.

            "Let this be the hour when we draw swords together," he commanded.  "Fell deeds awake.  Now for wrath!  Now for ruin!  And a red dawn!"

            He swung onto his horse as the bass bellow of the horn rumbled through Helm's Deep.  The doors of the keep burst open at nearly the same instant and orcs rushed inside.  But the Rohirrim were ready.

            "Forth Eorlingas!" shouted Theoden.

            The Riders of Rohan, accompanied by Aragorn and Legolas, charged out of the keep and through the Hornburg.  Uruk-Hai fell beneath their weapons or were crushed in the charge.  The riders stormed out of the main gate and galloped down the causeway, battling the whole way.  The rush milled to a near-halt as the orcs on the great plain surrounded them and closed for combat.

            An unnaturally loud call from a horse caught attention from everyone.  On a ridge to the east, a white stallion reared and pawed the air.  Though it bore no tack, the old man on its back stayed seated.

            "Gandalf," breathed Aragorn.

            A second man, dressed in the armor of Rohan, joined the old man.  Suddenly the ridge was lined with armored riders.  Banners with the white horse of Rohan danced in the breeze.

            "Eomer!" shouted Theoden.

            Suddenly the newcomers charged down the slope at full gallop.  Hundreds of Uruk-Hai pulled away from the main conflict to meet the newcomers, angling their long spears in front of them and roaring in challenge.  Then the sun crested the ridge.

            Temporarily blinded, the Uruk-Hai were unprepared.  The riders plowed into their line, jumping clear of the unset pikes and barreling into the fight.

            The fight for Helm's Deep was over.

***************

to be continued


	6. What Do You See?

DISCLAIMER:  see Chapter One for a full disclaimer.

A/N:  this chapter is a repost!  I had the "final count" wrong in the original posting!  My thanks to the website COUNCIL_OF_ELRDOND for the transcripts to fix a faulty memory.

Chapter Six:  What Do You See?

            Full daylight came on a scene of death and destruction beyond imagination.  The dead---friend and foe alike---were stacked upon each other in the Hornburg and upon the walls.  Hundreds of Uruk-Hai lay dead before the walls:  those the Elvish arrows had not slain outright had been trampled to death in the charge of their comrades.

            The cost had been horrendous.

            Dozens of the defenders of Helm's Deep lay dead.  More were wounded and maimed.  The wall had been breached by the monstrous explosion of wizard fire and was missing a section some thirty paces wide.  How many died in the explosion would never be known for certain because no bodies could be found.

            Aragorn ignored his own aches and pains to do what he could, helping the wounded and giving mercy to those beyond aid.  The dead Uruk-Hai were stripped of anything that could be useful and burned in a massive funeral pyre.  Dead Rohirrim were identified before being turned over to kin or being consigned to another fire.  There was no time for ceremony.

            Legolas moved among the dead, helping where he could but searching as well.  Of the two hundred Elves who had fought for Helm's Deep, only he had survived.  He gathered each body and carried the fallen Elf to a fire to be burned.

            "The Elf has chosen a lonely task," someone said behind Aragorn.

            He turned to find himself facing Eomer, brother to Eowyn and Third Marshall of the Riddermark.  He had shed his plumed helm and loosened the straps of his armor as he helped gather the dead.  His features were grim as he looked across the courtyard to Legolas.

            "It is their way," Aragorn said.  "Only he can give them proper honor."

            "The battle would have gone badly without them.  We owe them much."

            "The debt is also owed to you.  This battle would have been lost if not for the arrival of the Rohirrim."

            "It was our fight.  The Elves had nothing to hold them here."

            Aragorn stared into the fair-haired man for a long moment.  "This war is for all races," he said, recalling Legolas' words during the battle.  "We will win or lose together."

            Eomer nodded, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and moved to help several Riders.  Legolas had ceased his search and was looking around.  Aragorn followed his gaze and smiled.  Gimli was seated on a dead Uruk-Hai, puffing at his pipe.  His axe was buried deep in the orc's skull.

            Legolas strode toward Gimli, nonchalantly inspecting his bow.  "Final count," said the Elf, "forty-two."

            Gimli raised his bushy eyebrows.  "Forty-two," he said, blowing out smoke.  "That's not bad for a pointy-eared Elf princeling.  I myself am sitting pretty on forty-three."

            A slight frown crossed Legolas' face and, in a move faster than many could follow, he nocked an arrow and let it fly.  Gimli gave a startled cry as the slender arrow passed between his legs and sank into the body beneath him.  Legolas raised his head.

            "Forty-three, then."

            "He was already dead!" protested Gimli.

            A smile tugged at Legolas' lips as he said, "He twitched."

            Gimli grabbed the hilt of his axe.  "That's because he's got my axe buried in his nervous system!"

            He emphasized each word with a jerk on the axe handle.  The body spasmed with each movement.  Smiling, Aragorn went back to work.  A few moments later, he saw Legolas standing high on the outer wall, staring into the distance.  He stood motionless except for stray locks of hair blown by the wind.  Aragorn climbed the stairs and joined him.  He scanned the open plain as well but failed to see anything but work crews and corpses.

            "What do you see?" the Man asked quietly, speaking Elvish.

            "Death," Legolas answered in the same language.  "Death and loss and great sorrow.  But something else as well."  The Elf turned his gaze on Aragorn.  "I see hope."

THE END


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